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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950078">The Things We Bury.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagelabyrinth/pseuds/sagelabyrinth'>sagelabyrinth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Law &amp; Order: SVU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Case Fic, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Maybe Platonic Rollisi, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Platonic Barisi, Rollisi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:27:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,598</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagelabyrinth/pseuds/sagelabyrinth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A seemingly routine case turns into sour memories for Dominick Carisi. Years and repression and guilt come flooding back and cause a screeching halt on life as he knows it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr. &amp; Amanda Rollins, Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Amanda Rollins, Rafael Barba &amp; Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Justin Clarke, Head Coach.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'd like to issue a warning of childhood sexual abuse. This piece is heavily centered around that topic, so if you are particularly sensitive in that area, I suggest you don't read any further.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>It was noon on a warm September Tuesday, an anomaly this time of year; but it was welcomed, when he came into the 16th Precinct. Ryan Parkam, a twenty-two year old man walked into Special Victims Unit, looking as confused and lost as one would expect when Detective Amanda Rollins spotted him.</p><p>"Are you lost?" she asked in calm tone, her Georgia accent still slipped through, despite her many years in New York.</p><p>Ryan bit his lip, "Yeah, uhm, I..." he trailed off and took a deep breath of reassurance, "I was m-mol-molested. As a kid." he was nervous, rushing his words out, or else he'd lose the courage.</p><p>Amanda softened, "I see... I'm Detective Rollins, how about you come with me over here," she motioned to the quiet interview room, "And I'll go get my lieutenant, yeah?"</p><p>He nodded, "Y-yeah, okay, thanks."</p><p> </p><p>Rollins sighed as she closed the door on Ryan. He sat neatly on the soft, small sofa. She then walked next door to Olivia Benson's office. The lieutenant sat behind her desk, reading something that was concealed in a file. Her glasses laid to rest on the bridge of her nose that she then slid off as Amanda walked in.</p><p>"Hey, Rollins, what's up?" she inquired.</p><p>"There's a kid in the interview room, said he was molested when he was younger."</p><p>Benson sighed, "Okay, let's go talk to him."</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Ryan, is it?" Olivia asked softly. The boy nodded. "I'm Lieutenant Benson-- Olivia--, Detective Rollins said... You were sexually abused?"</p><p>Ryan nodded, "Yeah, uhm, when I was a kid."</p><p>"Okay... How about you tell me more about that?"</p><p> </p><p>Ryan breathed in and continued, "I was ten. My... parents, they sent me to a baseball camp. Just a stupid little two-week camp where they taught us how to catch pop-flys... yaknow, baseball stuff. One night, I was sleeping in my bunk. It was a small camp, so it was just me and two other boys in the room. I couldn't sleep, this was my first time away from home this long, I was nervous, yaknow?"</p><p>Benson nodded knowingly.</p><p>"Anyway, the door opens, it's dark and I can't really make out who it is. They get closer and closer to my bunk until I can see-- and it's Mr. Clarke. He was one of the coaches. The nicest one, too." Ryan's voice broke and he began to cry. Benson put a hand onto his shoulder and consoled him.</p><p>"I know this is hard," she said, "But I need you to try and continue, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>He nodded and sniffled, "I- I asked him what he was doing in here, but he just put his finger to his lips and shushed me. I- I tr-tried to... He just... I can't do this..."</p><p>"You can, Ryan, you can." Olivia reassured, "The first time you say this <em>will</em> be the hardest, but once you start this process it'll all get better. I promise you."</p><p>He rubbed his eyes, "He slid his hand up my leg, under the blankets, and kept telling me not to wake up the other boys, or else I'd get in trouble with my parents. I didn't make sound. He kept going further and further up my leg and then he-- Touched me. <em>There.</em> And I couldn't move. I was afraid." Ryan finished his story and Rollins passed him a box of tissues.</p><p>"Ryan, how old are you?" Benson questioned.</p><p>He sniffled, "Twenty-two."</p><p>She nodded, "Okay, the statute of limitations hasn't run out yet, that means you can pursue a criminal case."</p><p> </p><p>He looked confused, "Criminal Case...? No, I... I don't think I can do that..."</p><p>Rollins perked up, "Then why did you come here, Ryan?" her tone was even.</p><p>"I'm in a support group. For guys who went through... Stuff I did, and one of them said he told the police, and felt better about it, so I just wanted... Listen, I don't want to make this a big deal."</p><p>"Hang on, hang on," Benson slowed, "This doesn't have to be a bigger deal than you want it to be, but we want to help you. Help other people like you. Do you remember the name of this baseball camp?"</p><p>Ryan hummed, "Uhm, I think it was Ad-Advantage? I only went for the one summer..."</p><p>"That's fine, thank you, Ryan."</p><p> </p><p>After a few more questions, Ryan Parkam walked out the precinct. He had told Benson that he'd like to help, but again, he didn't want to make this a big deal. Benson didn't like the idea, it didn't sit right. She and Amada agreed that the allegation should be looked into.</p><p>"Hey, Carisi?" Benson asked while he sat at his desk.</p><p>"Yeah. Lieu?"</p><p>"Run a search on a baseball camp, Advantage Baseball?"</p><p> </p><p>Carisi ran cold. His body stiffened and his face grew pale.</p><p>"Hey, okay?" Rollins questioned, "You look like you've seen a ghost." She shared a concerned expression with Oliva.</p><p>He shook his head, "S-sorry, yeah, I'm fine." he sounded spooked, the two women didn't buy it, but neither pressed on.</p><p>Carisi typed in <em>Camp Advantage Baseball. </em>After a couple of miss-types and shaky clicks of a mouse, he found the webpage. All of a sudden he couldn't breathe. He apologized and left the room.</p><p> </p><p>"The hell was that?" Amanda asked.</p><p>Benson moved to get a better view of the computer screen. Her eyes adjusted to the brightness and she got a better understanding of the situation.</p><p>"Well," she said, gesturing to the photo on screen, "It might have something... To do with that."</p><p>Amanda perched her head over the look. Her mouth gaped open as she saw the page.</p><p> </p><p>There, on screen, was a picture of a man. He was older, maybe fifty, or sixty, with grey hair and green eyes. He was happily holding a child on his shoulders in front of a <em>Advantage Baseball, 2018</em> banner. The title read: <em>Justin Clarke, Head Coach.</em></p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The World Turned Upside Down.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Benson has suspicions about Carisi's involvement in the case. Will she say anything? Will he?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You think that <em>Carisi</em> might've been abused by this guy?" Amanda asked shockingly. <em>Her </em>Carisi? Dominick "Call me Sonny" Carisi? She didn't believe that.</p><p>Benson motioned to the computer, "Well, he had a very visceral reaction to this photo, what else should I think?"</p><p>Rollins shook her head, "I don't know Liv..." </p><p> </p><p>"Don't know about what?" Detective Tutuola inquired as he walked by.</p><p>"Fin," Amanda said in surprise. She didn't know what to say. Luckily Benson stepped in.</p><p>"A kid came in here and said he was assaulted. Amanda wasn't sure if the statutes ran out yet." Amanda shrugged at the statement, desperately trying to play it off.</p><p>Fin gave a funny look, but didn't care enough to push on, "Well, what's the case?"</p><p>"<em>Advantage Baseball, </em>a summer camp run by Justin Clarke. Apparently he spends his water break touching little boys." Rollins explained.</p><p>"Which," Benson directed herself to Fin, "Is why I want you and Rollins to go check it out. The camp is still up and running, and there are little kids staying there <em>right now</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"On it." Fin said.</p><p>He and Amanda collected their things and left to go take a drive to the camp. Benson sighed and looked at the photo of Clarke on screen. She just couldn't help but envision a little Sonny Carisi in that man's clutch. Why else would he up and leave, all shaky and pale? It just didn't make sense. Olivia decided to go look for him. If nothing happened to him, she still wanted to check up and make sure he was alright. She followed the direction that he left into the restroom.</p><p>She knocked lightly, "Carisi?" Of course she didn't want to just barge into the men's room, but what other choice did she have, "I'm coming in, Dominick."</p><p>Benson opened the door to the empty restroom. All the stall doors were opened except for the closest one. She leaned over slightly and saw someone kneeling over the toilet bowl, "Dominick?" she called softly. No reply. The toilet suddenly flushed and out walked Carisi. He was a mess, he looked drained and tired, he had puffy eyes and he was shaking, too. Olivia felt a pang of sorrow at the sight of the man.</p><p>"I'm okay," he said pathetically. His tone lead Benson to believe it was a lie. "No, you're not, Carisi, you just threw up." she said. </p><p>"I always throw up," he stated dryly.</p><p> </p><p>That was true, Carisi never could hold much down. After a rough case, or even just because he stayed in the office too long, Dominick would end up in the restroom floor by nightfall.</p><p>Shaking her head, Benson pushed on, "Even so, Dominick, you had a... Reaction. To that picture of Justin Clarke." </p><p>Carisi firmly shook his head and pointed a finger at Olivia, "I didn't."</p><p> </p><p>Olivia backed up. Carisi was clearly not in the right state right now and she didn't see a point in trying to push on, "Go home," she said in a genuine tone, "get some rest, and come back tomorrow."</p><p>"I don't need to go home, Lieu!" he snapped. Carisi immediately regretted this, holding his head in his hands and letting out a shaky sigh, "Sorry. I'm s-sorry."</p><p>Benson shushed him, "I know, I know... Just, go home, sleep, come back tomorrow, okay?"</p><p>After a pause, he nodded, "Yeah," he quietly agreed as he sniffled, "okay."</p><p> </p><p>Benson watched as Dominick grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his dingey, old desk chair, and swiftly brushed past Sargeant Mike Dodds without regard.</p><p>"Woah," Dodds exclaimed, "what's his deal?"</p><p>Olivia sighed and shook her head, "Some... Family thing." she lied, but she wasn't about to spread unfounded rumors about a coworker.</p><p>"Damn." said Mike, "Where's everybody else?"</p><p>"Staten Island. A young man came in and said he was sexually abused as a kid, by a coach at his baseball camp." Dodds cringed. The Sargeant was still young, he had yet to develop a stomach for such awful crimes.</p><p>"Well," he said, "Let me know if there's anything I can do."</p><p> </p><p>Olivia nodded and she was about to leave the conversation at that, but something else jumped into her mind, "Actually," she said, "Call Fin and Rollins, see if they can get a list of campers since 1990 to now."</p><p>Dodds had a confused look, "1990?" he asked.</p><p>"Just... Want to be thorough," said Benson.</p><p> </p><p>And with that, Dodds left. Olivia sat back in her office, unable to shake the idea of Carisi and his history with <em>Advantage, </em>and Justin Clarke.</p><hr/><p>"1990?!" He exclaimed. </p><p> </p><p>Justin Clarke was walking across the peewee baseball field at <em>Advantage Baseball Camp </em>with Rollins and Fin in tow, making sure to walk extra slowly past the young boys playing outfield, "I'm not sure we kept the signup records going back that far." he admitted.</p><p>"We know it's odd," Amanda expressed, "But our boss just wants us to be thorough."</p><p>"Remind me why you're here again?"</p><p> </p><p>Fin spoke, "We're investing a string of assaults, we believe the man responsible went here as a child, and we want to cross-reference any names with criminal records."</p><p>Amanda watched, amazed. She always admired Fin's ability to think on his feet.</p><p>"Shit," Clarke breathed out a laugh, "Good luck, that list'll be long."</p><p>"Anything to get the job done, right?" Rollins joked. Clarke laughed along with her. They kept walking until they circled back around to the administrative office.</p><p> </p><p>"Well," said Clarke, "I'll see how far back we can get that list for you, and I'll send it your way." he smiled politely.</p><p>Something about it seemed disingenuine, though. Like he wore a wearing mask, still keeping up an age-old facade of normalcy. </p><p>Rollins and Fin didn't buy it.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, they thanked him and got back in their car.</p><p>"Nice guy." Fin stated dryly.</p><p>Rollins chuckled, "Yeah, sure. You know, I don't like the way he was ogling those boys on the field."</p><p>"You saw that too? Good, more incentive to catch this sicko, then."</p><hr/><p>"So, what did you two get from Coach Clarke?" Benson inquired.</p><p>"Not a lot," Rollins stated, "He's worked there a long time, though. He started when the camp did, back in '86. Slowly worked his way up to head coach."</p><p>"If he is a pedophile, that's a long time to be around young boys and an even longer list of potential victims," Fin added</p><p>Benson sighed at the sheer thought of just <em>how long </em>that list could be, "We'll cross that road eventually. In the meantime, Rollins, you and Dodds see if there's ever been another complaint like Ryan's at other borough's. I can't imagine abuse going on for <em>this long, </em>and no one else speaking up." </p><p>As the two left, Fin stood expectantly, "What about me?"</p><p>"You," she began, "Can go check on Carisi for me."</p><p>"Carisi?" he asked, "Why? What's wrong with him?"</p><p>"Went home sick, but he seemed out of it. Just make sure he's alright, okay?" she explained, surprised at her own ability to think fast.</p><p> </p><p>Fin agreed and left. Eventually, as promised, the list of names came through. Though the earliest they dated back was 1993. Benson was the first to snatch the folders. If Carisi's name <em>was </em>in here, she didn't want anyone else to know that yet.</p><hr/><p>Dodds and Rollins eventually found out, after a couple of painstakingly long conversations with the 121st, and 122nd Precincts, that there was in fact another boy who came forward. Jordan McKlein, a teacher, was twenty-five when he decided to tell his story.</p><p>"They sighed, said I was too old." Jordan explained, "Can you believe that? Too old for my abuse to matter?"</p><p>Rollins sighed, "Unfortunately, the statute of limitations does say that you must be twenty-three or younger. It's a flawed law, in my opinion."</p><p>"Yeah," Agreed Jordan, "At twenty-three I couldn't even balance a checkbook, let alone process and admit my childhood abuse." He was a very educated man who (thankfully) didn't fall through the cracks like some abuse survivors did. Dodds respected him greatly.</p><p> </p><p>"Listen, Jordan," Dodds said, "Another man came forward, about what Coach Clarke did to him. If need be, could you give us a testimony? To show Clarke's modus operandi?" </p><p>Rollins shot Dodds a glance at his words, but he ignored it.</p><p>Jordan stiffened, "Listen, I don't want to make this a big thing. I would love to help, truly, but I already tried to say my piece. No one cared."</p><p> </p><p>There it was again, "I don't want to make this a big thing". Rollins internally groaned at the words.</p><p>"Jordan," she said, "I know you want to put this past you, but Justin Clarke is a dangerous man. You know he's still got kids in that camp."</p><p>The man loosened and look guilty, "I know." he admitted, "I'll do it. I'll give a testimony, whenever you need it. Call me."</p><hr/><p>Fin took the stairs up to Carisi's small apartment. Of course, as his luck would be, the elevator was out. He sighed as he finally reached his destination. Fin gave two moderately forcefully knocks on Dominick's door, "Carisi," he called. No reply.</p><p>Knocking once more, he tried again, "Ayo, Dominick!". Finally, the other man answered. He was pale, shaky, he had wet eyes and a red nose.</p><p>"Shit," Fin breathed, "Are you okay? Liv said you were sick."</p><p>Carisi scoffed, "Yeah, I-I'm fine, Fin. Thanks."</p><p> </p><p>Fin gave a doubtful expression. Carisi shook his head and reiterated, "What're you do'n here?" he asked.</p><p>"Liv sent me by... Wanted to make sure you made it home alright."</p><p>"Awh," Dominick softly smiled, "That-That's nice. Tell her I'm fine, really. I'll be back in shape tomorrow, I'm sure."</p><p>A beat passed of Carisi standing there, looking like dog shit, smiling politely like any good catholic boy was taught to do, and Fin not buying a second of his story.</p><p>"How about I come in for a sec and-" he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before Dominick cut him off.</p><p>"N-No!" he rushed, then quickly laughed it off, "No, I've got t-tissues everywhere, an' I don't want you getting whatever bug I have, so..."</p><p> </p><p>"Uh-Hm," said Fin, "Well, feel better, man. See you tomorrow, I hope."</p><p>"Yeah, you too, Fin.". And with that, Carisi shut the door.</p><p>Shaking off how incredibly weird that interaction was, the older man left.</p><hr/><p>"You sounded like Carisi back there," Stated Rollins, "'modus operandi'", she mimicked.</p><p>Mike laughed as they sat in their car, "What's with him, anyway?" he questioned, "Liv said it was a family thing...? I'm not buying it."</p><p>She shrugged, "It's personal, I guess. I don't know the reason," she lied. Then she chuckled lightly, "You're nosy."</p><p>Dodds' face grew red, "I am not <em>nosy,</em> I'm the Sargeant. I should know."</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled once more, "Okay, <em>Sargeant,</em>" she mused, "Let's go back to the Precinct and see if that list'a names came back yet."</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(Fact) - In the Harvey Weinstein case, DANY was able to admit the testimony of his prior victims to show Weinstein's modus operandi. While you can't use past victims to show propensity, you can use past victim's testimony to show motive, absence of mistake, a common scheme, and modus operandi.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sick.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carisi battles with himself while home "sick.". Dodds finds out some shocking news.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Sometimes he could still feel the hands. They were calloused and dry, typically of a man who has a manual labor job. He showered a few times but Carisi still feels dirty. The same dirty he's felt for the past twenty-one years.</p><p>
  <em>Twenty-one years. </em>
</p><p>The number rang in his head, it felt like only yesterday to him. Coach Clarke putting his fingers in young Dominick's mouth, effectively stopping him from making a sound. Clarke's other hand slid further and further up his legs until the boy could recite enough prayers in his head to make himself tune out the horrors that were happening to him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Like unto the cup and the wine, and the holy supper,<br/>which our dear Lord Jesus Christ gave unto his dear disciples<br/>on each day, may the Lord Jesus guard me in daytime,<br/>and at night, that:<br/>No dog may bite me,<br/>No wild beast tear me to pieces,<br/>No tree fall upon me,<br/>No water rise against me,<br/>No firearms injure me,<br/>No weapons, no steel, no iron cut me,<br/>No fire burn me, No false sentence fall upon me,<br/>No false tongue injure me,<br/>No rogue enrage me, and that no fiends, no witchcraft<br/>Or enchantment can harm me. Amen.<br/>Protect my Day<br/>Blessed be my protection when I go out during day or night,<br/>That thou mayest not let any of my enemies, or thieves, approach me,<br/>If they do not intend to bring me what was intended from your Holy Altar.<br/>Because God the Lord Jesus Christ is ascended into Heaven in his living Body,<br/>And so shall my body and wellbeing be protected on this journey.<br/>O Lord, bless me and watch over me day and night.<br/>In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.<br/>Protect my Journey<br/>In the name of God I go on this journey.<br/>May God the Father be with me,<br/>God the Son protect me, and<br/>God the Holy Ghost be by my side.<br/>Whoever is stronger than these three persons<br/>May approach my body and my life; yet<br/>Whoso is not stronger than these three<br/>Would much better let me be!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dominick still remembers the pain, still feels the guilt, the shame, the <em>dirtiness...</em></p><p>He's surrounded on his living room floor, notebooks (some of which are ripped, pages torn and ink smudged), all of his old journals, diaries, all detailing his abuse and anxieties.</p><p>He collected the notebooks and tossed them into his steel garbage bin. Looking down into the bin, he struck a match.</p><hr/><p>Benson sat stunned in her office. While everyone else was out, she skimmed over the list of names marked, "<em>1993". </em>She read halfway through the list before she saw it. Hell, she wasn't even sure it was real at first. Maybe she was tired, working long hours caught up to her. Or maybe it a trick her mind was playing on her.</p><p>But it wasn't.</p><p>There, written on the old, yellow paper, was <em>Dominick Carisi.</em></p><p> </p><p>Her mouth fell open, there was no way.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Liv," Dodds said as he walked into her office. He noticed her expression, "What is it?"</p><p>"Nothing," she remarked, "Just... A lot of names." she attempted to play it off, and Dodds, to her knowledge, bought it.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, Rollins and I spoke to a man, Jordan McKlein? He was abused by Clarke."</p><p>"Where'd you find him from?" </p><p>"122nd Precinct. He went in to tell his story last year. They just told him they couldn't do anything."</p><p>"Typical," she sighed, "His story match Ryan's?"</p><p>Dodds nodded, "Should Rollins and I go pick him up?"</p><p>She almost agreed, but changed her mind, "Actually, I want to get this bastard myself."</p><p> </p><p>Dodds waited at his desk until he was sure Benson and Rollins left the building. The squad room was surprisingly bare, with only two other people there. He confidently walked into her office, remembering what his father once told him.</p><p>
  <em>"No one will think you're suspicious if you stand tall and act like you belong."</em>
</p><p>The list Dodds saw Benson reading earlier still laid on her desk. With a twinge of nervousness in his stomach, he picked it up and read the names.</p><p>He went down half the list before his eyes caught something. At first, he thought he wasn't reading it write. It couldn't be right, absolutely no way. But it was, written plain as day, <em>Dominick Carisi.</em></p><hr/><p>He paced in his small apartment kitchen as the water he poured into the steel pot started to come to a boil. Tea should work, right? To calm him down? Sonny's mom always made him tea as a little boy. That's what she calls him-- Sonny. He tried to get everyone else to call him that too, but it didn't work out. They all either call him "Carisi", or "Dominick". </p><p>He didn't like Dominick that much, though. Reminded him of his father. Not that it was bad-- Sonny adored his father, but he just didn't care for the name himself.</p><p>As the water boiled, Sonny thought back to his childhood memories. His bouts of anxiety which often resulted in Mom making tea, him throwing up, and even once time-- the hospital.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"You're too wound up, Sonnshine." His mother remarked. She had a gentle tone, but there was still a glint of annoyance. "You're eleven, hun," she continued as she paced around his bedside, "What eleven-year-old goes to the ER for stomach ulcers?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He supposes she was right, hell, she's <em>still </em>right. He's too wound up. All his old skeletons trying to burst out his not-so-neatly packed closet. His mind kept going back to his time at camp, memories that'd spent years trying to repress. At this point, Sonny's only skill was repressing unwanted thoughts, childhood, or not.</p><p>
  <strong>Rollins... Barba.</strong>
</p><p>He shook his head and cupped his face in his hands, "Get a grip, Sonny," he told himself, "Get a grip..."</p><p>His hands were wet, he must've been crying again. He didn't even notice.</p><p> </p><p>Everything felt hazy like he was sleeping and all of this was a dream. A really bad dream.</p><p>The water had come to a roaring boil, he had remembered that was the correct time to pull it off the burner, and he poured it into an old coffee mug his father gifted him one year for Christmas.</p><p>The watched the steam travel up into the air and fog up the glass window of his microwave. Sonny's heart beat faster and faster, his legs felt heavy, eyes foggy, head pounding. He needed something to stop him, to stop his brain from imploding on itself. He felt dirty, he felt like he was dying. He needed it to stop. He needed it to stop.</p><p>
  <em>stopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopst</em>
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  <em>He dunked his hand into the coffee cup.</em>
</p><hr/><p>"He went to that camp," Benson stated suddenly. It was just her and Rollins in the squad car on the way to go pick up Justin Clarke.</p><p>"What?" she asked incredulously. Amanda sat with her mouth agape, waiting desperately for Liv to start laughing, claiming it was just a joke. A terribly cruel, sick joke.</p><p>"I saw his name," said Liv, "<em>Dominick Carisi</em>, right there stated in ink."</p><p>"No," Rollins said, "No. Judt because Carisi went to that camp doesn't mean-"</p><p>"Oh come on, Amanda! You saw him, he was a wreck when he heard about the case!" </p><p>"Have you talked to him?" Amanda questioned.</p><p> </p><p>Liv kept her eyes firmly on the road, "I caught him throwing up, asked him if he knew Justin Clarke and-"</p><p>"Did he say yes!?" Rollins pressed.</p><p>Liv didn't respond. "He didn't, did he?" Amanda chuckled, "See, you are always trying to find the victim, Liv, well not everyone is one! You <em>want</em> Carisi to be a victim so you can save him-!"</p><p>"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say any of that," Benson stated firmly, "Amanda, I'm not trying to make Carisi out to be a victim, really, I'm just making an observation."</p><p>She scoffed, "An 'observation'..."</p><p> </p><p>Benson gave Rollins a look of disbelief, "Rollins," she exclaimed, "I don't know why you're so defensive about this, but I suggest that it ends. Now."</p><p>Rollins stared back for a beat, "Okay," she said, "Okay, Lieutenant."</p><hr/><p>Maybe Rollins was right, maybe he <em>was </em>nosy. Dodds held the sheet of paper not knowing how to process it. If Carisi went to <em>Advantage </em>all those years ago...</p><p>He couldn't think about that. It couldn't be. And having an idea like... <em>That...</em> Without any proof? It does more harm than good.</p><p>Still... He couldn't help but...</p><p> </p><p>Mike pocketed the sheet and left the precinct.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What am I doing?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The question repeated in his head as he drove towards Carisi's apartment.</p><p> </p><p>He didn't even know the guy that well, why was he...</p><p> </p><p>I mean, they were friends, yeah, but Dodds hadn't been there for too long, were they close enough for... This?</p><p> </p><p>The doubts he had didn't get a chance to fully register in his brain before he was walking up the stairs and knocking on the door.</p><p> </p><p>God, <em>What am I doing?</em></p><p> </p><p>The door slowly opened just enough to see Carisi's face, "Mike?" he asked, "Wh-What're you doing here?"</p><p>Dodds opened his mouth, but what was he about to say? He sighed and revealed the sheet of paper.</p><p>Carisi hesitantly ran his eyes over the paper's content. Dodds watched as his expression shifted from confused... To nervous.</p><p> </p><p>He looked up at Dodds, "I..." was all he could muster.</p><p>"Carisi," Mike said firmly, "Is this why Liv said you were home, 'sick'?"</p><p>He didn't answer, he just stared at the floor, lost.</p><p>"Carisi?" he asked again.</p><p> </p><p>"I dunno..." he mumbled. Dodds tried to open the door further, but Carisi's hand prevented it. Mike looked over and saw his coworker's hand.</p><p>"Shit," he breathed, "What happened?"</p><p>Carisi's hand was covered in bumps and boils. They weren't major, but enough to cause concern. Dodds looked at his face. His eyes were glossy, he looked... Something wasn't right. He wasn't fully... There.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Carisi, how about we go back to the precinct?" Mike offered.</p><p>Carisi shook his head, "N-No, I sh-should... I should go to slee..." before he could finish, Carisi teetered back and slumped foward.</p><p>"Woah," Dodds exclaimed, he caught Carisi's limp body in his arms, " Carisi!"</p><p> </p><p>Mike didn't know what to do, or what the hell even happened. He put a finger to the man's neck and sighed relief, still has a pulse. He lowered Carisi down against the wall, "What'd you take?" he asked hurriedly.</p><p>Carisi didn't answer, his eyes were barely opened.</p><p>"Damn it," Mike muttered. He pulled out his phone and dialed 911, "I need an ambulance at 1722, Amsterdam Avenue, apartment 23b."</p><hr/><p> </p>
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